Among Dust
by Channel Jumper
Summary: Armageddon. The Apocalypse. The Nuclear Holocaust. The Beginning of the End. No matter you call it, it's still the same. Humanity is never the same ever again. These stories go through the accounts of the countries after the nuclear holocaust, and will give some explanations of how some of the countries met their fate. Rated T for blood, language, and dark atmosphere. ON HIATUS.
1. Account 1: America

**It had been a long time since I uploaded something like this, so here you go.**

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 **Among Dust**

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 _Oh! Listen to the Earth's heart._

 _Among the listener's part._

 _If only the dust could blow away._

 _Oh, the joyous triumph._

 _To see the forest's maze._

 _If only we could see,_

 _before the red faded in our daze._

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A rough hand covered in dirt patted itself against its owner's thigh while another hand held an mp3 player that hummed the little song as fire crackled from an illuminated camp fire. The man that hummed in a rough voice to the beat had dirty blond hair with dry sweat accumulating on his forehead. His dull blue eyes had some small hints of joy when hearing the repetitive but happy song playing in his hand, and a small grin tried to form on his face for a few seconds until he stopped trying.

This man sighed as he sat in an uncomfortable position in a safe distance from the crackling fire that lit up the surroundings of the weathered supports from a ruined building. The sky was clouded with grey clouds, but the man could still see the moonlight from the surface of the Earth's moon. The ground he sat on was old and patched, with rocks and debris still filling in, but the blonde didn't care as he tried to gain some warmth from the fire in the cold night.

This man wore a patched and dirty coat that looked worn out with buttons missing and fabric torn, accompanied with black jeans in the same condition with his black sneakers. His glasses had a small crack in the corner of the second lens, but the man's vision was still visible. With the man's eyes weary with bags under it, you could infer that he had a hard time resting throughout all this, which makes sense from his problems after what happened.

This man's name was Alfred F. Jones, but that's just his human name. He's actually called USA, or America for short.

You could probably ask why he's resting against broken bits of wood and glass, resting against a fire in a destroyed city in the middle of the night. To answer your question, it will be that Albert Einstein was right. The next World War will be fought with sticks and stones.

America coughed violently as some smoke from the fire got caught into his respiratory system, and his lungs burned from getting in touch with gas. After America was finished with coughing, he knew that he can't sleep, even if he wanted to from his evidence of insomnia, but he's too paranoid to just lay his fears and worries to sleep; that would be too easy to do.

America was too frightened to go to sleep, his thoughts were running through his mind with a speed of fifty miles per hour from interpreting everything as something that will kill him if he doesn't be careful. The only thing that calmed him for a temporary amount of time was his mp3 player, one that was able to hold onto hundreds of America's favorite songs, which helped with his anxiety throughout his new life. He couldn't relax without the happy or excited voices of singers that sung to their heart's content.

America placed his mp3 player down hesitantly as he stood up with a wince from how he remembered of the wound that was covered up in clothing on his right leg, and how it gave him shots of pain through his nervous system that made him groan, but he was focused to get the black bag next to him that was a few feet away.

America was able to grab onto the bag's straps while ignoring his body screaming to lay down, and returned to his spot with the bag full of ammo and two guns. America opened the bag by its zipper, and looked through his ammo for his MP-2 uzi and AR-15 rifle. He had to make sure that all of his equipment were there, with his rations separated in another bag that had the color of blue. With America palming the guns' triggers and surface in safety as he took out his phone that shown the date, 12:15. America was frustrated that it wasn't morning yet, but he had to be patient.

America returned the guns back into the black bag while feeling defeated but worried. He had to sleep, he knew the cons of being sleep deprived, but his paranoia was still kicking in once or twice every hour when he knew he wasn't safe. He wanted to go back to when the war didn't happen, where he was with his brother, Canada, and just laugh and talk for the rest of their lives. Hell, he even wanted to see Russia and England, just someone to talk to while they trek through desolate wasteland. He hated it. He wanted everything to stop. But he can't.

America was breathing heavily as he immediately took out his rifle and held it against his chest in a sense of protection and sadness, becoming more harder to swallow every second his eyes dashed into the borders of the darkness that the light from the fire didn't touch, and felt worry, fear, sadness, and every negative emotion almost trying to break him as he remembered all of the screams from his citizens, his brother's worried voice being broken off from no more service on the phone, and the extreme worry from one question that was always on his mind after months of fighting through raiders and mutants. Are the others alive?

Is his friend, Japan, alive? Is he also fighting against monsters through the shadows of Tokyo or Kyoto, or is he already dead?

What about England? Is he with a group of survivors, finding a way to get contact through with him, Canada, France, or the others?

Even France? Is he alone with no one else but himself, fighting to the very end with his back sore from too much conflict?

Also Italy, Russia, Germany, China, Prussia, Denmark, and anyone else? Are they alive? Are they dead? Is Italy crying with the dead body of Romano in the broken city of Rome? Is Germany looking frantically for Italy and his brother, Prussia? America doesn't even know anymore.

Is Canada still alive? Is he looking for him? Is he worried? Is he already dead? All of these questions were now the only thoughts running and dampening through America's supposed fate and thoughts.

In the broken ruins of the once-proud capital of the USA with the silent humming of the mp3 coming to a dead end, America started to cry.

* * *

 **I don't know if I should call this 'complete' since I have some ideas on what to do with what happened to the rest of the countries, but I don't know.**


	2. Account 2: Italy Brothers

**I can't believe this literally went up to 4,000 in the word count, but I hope you enjoy.**

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 **Among Dust**

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Italy felt tired, his legs beginning to shake from how much walking he has achieved. The achievement might be small, but if you count the fact that he was carrying the injured body of Romano out of the capital of Rome to who-knows-where to some surviving civilization for medicine and shelter, then you knew that the accomplishment was the reason why both of the Italian brothers were still alive.

It was fifty years after the end of the nuclear holocaust – not enough to clear up the radiation from the air and ground, but enough to clear almost all of it, so Italy and Romano were ordered by the leader of the bunker they lived in for thirty years to open the bunker to try to make a trade route with another bunker nearby. Unfortunately, when Romano and Italy arrived to that bunker at the end of destroyed Rome parallel to their bunker, the nearby bunker's residents have been killed by raiders that intend to survive even by slaughtering innocents. With Romano injured from an unsuspecting shot from one of the raiders, Italy was able to carry him away from the bunker, until he realized their own bunker was also destroyed.

With no where to go, Italy and Romano had no choice but to find another bunker, the nearest bunker located in Perugia. With that, the brothers were now traveling through many miles to get to the other bunker before sunset.

Sadly though, they weren't able to get there before sunset as it was dark with their surroundings almost invisible to their vision, but Italy still kept going with his legs and arms almost becoming jelly from how it shook and wobbled.

Italy trekked through the broken roads that connected through Italy's and Romano's country, feeling his breath becoming ragged and short. Italy was covered in sweat and grime, while Romano was covered in dry blood splotches, dirt, and ash. The two wore their signature military uniforms, but they were now almost torn or covered in gore and earth.

Italy's lungs were now greedy for oxygen as he still continued his trek, with his eyes looking bloodshot accompanied with a frown from his mouth. He was persistent on helping Romano, since the only thing that was keeping Romano from bleeding out was ripped fabric tied around his right leg from Italy's pant's legs, which kept him from getting infections, but they knew that it wouldn't stay uninfected for long if he doesn't get needed care.

"God damn it, brother," Romano cursed with a faint voice from how he feels faint from too much blood loss. "I can walk on my own now, dammit."

Italy wore a sad expression but shook his head as a reply, with Romano's response being him narrowing his eyes in pained annoyance. "I am sorry, Romano, but I can't do that. You're injured. You could hurt yourself at this rate."

"Then what about you?" Romano interrogated, but Italy knew that Romano didn't insert anger into his voice, just assertiveness. "You have been carrying me for hours, and you look like you're about to drop dead."

"...," Italy was silent as he tried to regain breathing when he stopped his legs from continuing. Even though Italy didn't want to admit it, but Romano's right; Italy's limbs were beginning to scream from them going over the limit of use, and it's already taking a toll on Italy's status of health and stamina. Italy was determined though to get Romano to safety, but he couldn't without the proper rest and strength.

"See? Even though your legs aren't fucked up like mine, I still have another to rely on, you idiot," Romano explained when he took Italy's silence as defeat while he tried to get off from Italy's arms that held onto him with a vice-like grip. "Now let me go! We don't have to damn walk all the time, we should rest. I'm not going to die in one day from a fucking, little, bullet wound." Italy flinched a little as he finally released Romano's body, who was able to stand up properly.

Italy gave a grim expression as he nodded. This is the reason why he wanted to get to the nearest bunker for healing immediately. Romano is the only one he has now in this dark period of human history. He doesn't know if Germany survived, even Japan, Spain, or France might be dead. Italy almost shook from some incoming tears, but was able to hold back and tried to think of something positive in the outcome of his friends and family. He will find them one day, but for now, his objective is to help his wounded brother.

Romano groaned as he stretched out his muscles after being in Italy's arms for quite some time, and turned to his brother with a stare. "Give me our bag," Romano told Italy, who realized that Romano was eyeing the bag that hung from Italy's left shoulder. To be honest, Italy almost forgot that he wore it because he was too focused on the intolerable pain of having to walk while carrying Romano's body for hours.

Italy laughed awkwardly as he took the straps of the bag into his hands, which were connected to the entire bag, and placed it into Romano's hands.

Romano gave a satisfied grunt as he began to kneel into the cold asphalt of the streets, and motioned Italy to sit down. Italy was internally relieved as he let his whole body fall onto the floor with him giving a relaxed sigh when his arms flopped to his side, which sounded rather comical to his brother as he browsed through their bag full of blankets, pillows, dry beef, pasta, tomatoes, preserved gelato – Romano found it ridiculous for a mission when Italy suggested it, but he knew that he wanted to eat some too – that will last for a few days, ammo for their guns, and two spectre M4s.

Romano sighed as he decided to sit rather than kneel, and relaxed his whole body for a few seconds until he decided to talk to his brother, who was humming to himself in a childish voice. Romano would've grumbled from his antics, but he was relieved that his little brother was still hyperactive and happy even in a world where all of their alive citizens were hidden under the surface, and the rest were dead from multiple, horrific outcomes. Romano was grateful that his brother still gave him some hope for the future, but he was afraid that Veneziano's happy composure would diminish throughout the years; Romano was fearful that that would be the case.

"Veneziano," Romano muttered to Italy, who turned his head to the direction of his old brother.

"Yes, Romano? What's bugging you?" Italy asked with a worried voice, but Romano shook his head to try to reassure Italy that nothing was bugging him, nothing too troubling.

"Nothing, little brother," Romano reassured him, forcing a fake smile to make him believe his claim. Italy was no idiot to Romano's lies and truths, but he knew he didn't want to bother Romano too much about it.

"Then what were you about to tell me?"

"We should rest for today," Romano answered, with Veneziano giving a frown. "Don't try to object with bullshit; Veneziano, you are tired, you are filled with fatigue. I can't just be carried by you all the time, you need damn rest. Go to sleep. Just. Sleep."

Italy winced at Romano's commanding voice, and nodded weakly. Romano gave a tired sigh as he nudged at Italy with weary eyes. "Please, sleep."

Italy decided to do just that, with him lying done onto the floor, putting a hand into the bag to find the two blankets and pillows, and gave one of the sets to Romano. Italy prepared his makeshift bed, and laid down onto the cold ground, while laying his head onto the pillow with the blanket covering most of his lower and upper body.

Romano gave an exhausted groan as he prepared his makeshift bed. After he prepared it, he looked at Italy. "I'm going to be on lookout while you rest," Romano raised a hand to silence Italy before he protested, but he was surprised that Italy didn't go to sleep yet. "Sleep."

Italy gave a sad sigh as he nodded, going back to sleep beneath the covers. Romano gave a satisfied grin at how he was successful in persuading Italy to sleep; Italy was pretty worn out, and no brother of his won't let him tire himself to death.

Romano opened up the black bag, and took out and supplied one of the spectres, beginning the lookout with him dashing his eyes into the darkness in suspicion. His finger hovered over the trigger, his eyes narrowing every second the darkness consumed his vision. Romano didn't want to use a fire or light source at this point, he knew that leading unwanted attention to him and his brother is not or even necessary.

 **|-Among Dust-|**

Romano was limp as his chest puffed in and out to the beat of his breathing; his spectre laid right next to his body while he slept. Italy was right beside him in a crossed position, looking refreshed with the new energy in his eyes. Italy held his rolled-up blankets with pillows in his arms, and retreated his gaze from Romano so that he could neatly pack up their equipment.

It was morning, with the sky being lit barely because of the grey clouds covering the sky. The sun's light was not strong enough to penetrate the thick barrier, but the sun was able to lighten the area for the brothers to see with clear visibility. The brown and rocky land was the only thing Italy could see, including the road he walked on.

Italy was able to gather up all of their pillows and blankets, and placed them into the black bag. Italy wanted to wake up Romano, but from the evidence of weary shoulders and bags under his eyes, Italy didn't want to. Even though carrying Romano will still piss the older Italian to no end, Italy decided that if they want to find protection and medicine, then they will have to travel to Perugia immediately. With that thought, Italy kneeled down to scoop up Romano's body, but when he hooked his arms under him, he almost felt his arms screaming to stop before they cry. Italy grunted as he ignored his limbs, and used his strength to try to lift Romano again, but his body was now shutting down and making him scream internally from too much pain. Italy accidentally let go of Romano while he was a few feet above the ground, and Romano's body turned over at that exact moment so that his face kissed the ground viciously.

"CAZZO!" Romano's muffled yell of pain made Italy yelp at how loud in volume it was as Romano scrambled off of the ground with an angry expression. "God damn it, little brother! Were you trying to kill me?!"

Italy shook his head rapidly with panic in his voice. "I'm sorry, Romano! I didn't mean it!"

"Oh hell you didn't mean it, then why am I having a fucking love affair with the damn fucking ground, Veneziano!?" Romano roared at him, shaking Italy's shoulders violently.

"I didn't mean for you to come in contact with the ground, I swear!"

Romano was about to retort angrily at Italy's statement, but he howled in pain as his left shoulder spurted out blood when something metal rammed into it.

Italy widened his eyes as Romano fell to the ground, clutching his shot shoulder with his right hand in agony. "Romano!"

"Veneziano, down!" Romano ordered to him in a pained voice as another gunshot was heard only a few feet away. Italy fell down onto the ground before a metal bullet can puncture his body.

Italy had eyes full of fear while it dashed around to where the gunshots were located, but Italy's body was now smashed against the road's surface when a force inserted against his back, making him yelp in pain from his face banging against the ground.

Romano growled as he tried to stand up, but something pushed him into the same position like his brother; his back was aching in suffering while he breathed heavily from the air being forced out of his lungs on impact.

With the position Romano was in as he tried to see the faces of the men who assaulted them, he was having a hard time contemplating who they are since one of them was facing his direction with the sun covering his face because of his supposed fedora as the man's known fashion.

"We don't mean any harm," the man persuaded to Romano.

"Piss off, you damn bastards!" Romano cussed at him, shaking in anger at what these men were doing to him and his brother. "Let go of us!"

He could hear one of the men growl while a boot kicked him in the face, making him yell in pain. Italy was terrified of these men; they're hurting his brother, and it was hard to watch as a bruise began to form on Romano's right cheek from where the boot smashed into his face.

"Don't hurt him!" Italy pleaded to the men, trying to regain his composure from how vulnerable Romano looked when he struggled against the men who held him. "What do you want? Please leave us alone!"

Italy froze when he heard one of the men's chuckles. It was filled with enjoyment, and cruelty. With just that laugh, Italy shivered with goosebumps.

"Heheh, why would we want to leave you alone? We're not leaving until you give us everything you have," the man explained. "If you don't comply, then it would be a shame if your friends or family don't see you again, or maybe I could have the full responsibility of giving them your bones and rotted flesh to them as a gift."

Romano growled at how amused the man's voice was; no matter what, he'll not sell his soul to satan just because of tiny threats the man conjures, but he knew yelling at him will only anger him to the point where he and Veneziano die. He'll not let it.

Italy didn't want the men to hurt him or Romano anymore. He knew this would've happened if he wasn't careful enough, and Italy felt guilty that he wasn't fast enough to save Romano. He felt powerless.

"Just get our things."

"Veneziano!" Romano shouted at him. "Don't you dare!"

"I don't care about the supplies we need, just take them all."

"You idiot," Romano muttered to himself, but he couldn't blame Italy for him wanting them to be alive. After the nuclear holocaust was upon them, they both knew that many countries will die, so both of them depended on each other to survive; they lost many friends and family, Romano didn't want to lose another one. Romano had to think fast before Veneziano and himself get killed by a barrage of bullets.

Romano needed to find a way to kill or distract the raiders before any further damage to his face or Italy's body can be done. Although, there's one question: how is he going to distract them?

Romano knew that Italy could help with the distractions, but what type of distraction could easily get these men to stop holding them in a vulnerable position, and make them scatter. Romano then realized the answer. Gunshots. If the men think they're being under attack, then one of their captors could let go one of them to defend themselves, and he could fight.

How is he going to do it though? Romano gave that certain question some thought. Veneziano can't read his thoughts, and his misthinking could lead the plan astray. Romano groaned softly at the backfire, but then he remembered something, his spectre.

Romano looked around for it until he realized that it was hidden snugly under his right leg, near his wound, which made him realize why more pain was pulsing throughout his body faster than he had expected. Of course, Romano's body was just pinned by his captor's foot, since pain and pressure only came from the center of his back. His legs weren't pinned except for his arms, which were being held by rough hands just like his brother.

Romano moved his right leg to the right slowly, making sure that his captor doesn't notice as the gun slid with his limb. His leg did wince from how the gun was pressured onto his wound, but he continued his slow leg's descent to his hip's right side.

Romano knew that it will take more effort to get his arms free without his holder noticing. Romano has two options, he either gets Veneziano to distract them in a way for them so they don't notice him grabbing the gun, knocking out his jailor in the process; two. He has to distract them himself so that he could slide the gun to Veneziano. The first and second options have their positives and negatives, but option two seems like a rational option to him.

"Hmph, nice to see your little friend knows who to not mess with," the man wearing the fedora, who was suppose to be the leader, smiled, making Romano cue his rage.

"Fuck you! I'll never surrender to you, you low scumbags!"

The man snarled. "Shut up! Either you let us take everything, or die!"

"Never!" Romano barked as he used all of his strength to lift himself from the ground while the man who held his arms was surprised at Romano's startling strength; he never expected for a man with a thin frame to fight back. Romano stood up, turned around swiftly, and jabbed his captor in the abdomen, making him groan as Romano's attack caught him off guard.

"Veneziano!" Romano shouted to Italy, who was still on the ground, and kicked the gun directly to Italy's body with his left leg. Italy widened his eyes at what Romano was doing, but realized what Romano's actions were implying.

Romano faced the man with the fedora, who had the eyes of malice. His mouth twitched from how Romano seems to be smiling at him in an aggressive way. "You don't know who you're fucking messing with, don't you?"

"I don't care who I'm messing with. This is the fucking wastelands, asshole, nobody travels here unless you expect people to suck your damn dick!"

The man was furious at Romano's statements, and cocked his head quickly, as a response. Romano was confused why he decided to do that, until he noticed that something impaled into his abdomen, making him scream in pain while at that same time, the man with the fedora smiled to his accomplice who recovered from Romano's revolt.

Romano felt like he wanted to die. He felt stupid. Stupid for not reacting earlier, now he is bleeding externally. Romano didn't lose his footing though, even if the force of the blow made him scream throughout his entire body, he directed himself to the person holding Italy down, and tackled him off of Italy, making both of them land onto the ground next to him.

Romano was now pinned to the ground, his body's wounds now becoming unbearable from it pressed into the ground.

"That's it!" He heard the leader. "We gave you a warning, now you'll have to pay the damn price."

Romano was getting dizzy, feeling the blood from his wounds dampening his clothes, making him feel faint. Romano's pupils dilated when he heard the sound of a gun cocking above his body. He didn't know what to expect anymore.

"Didn't want to do this, but goodbye to you, douchebag; please give satan a welcome hug from me."

At that moment, Romano knew that trying to hold up his eyes was becoming a challenge, and he decided that if he wanted to end his life right there, might as well die peacefully. Romano felt his eyelids becoming heavy, and Romano only heard one thing when he went unconscious.

 _ **BAANG!**_

 **|-Among Dust-|**

Romano felt weightless, relaxed, but also light-headed. He was confused on what happened, and pondered if he died. Romano's body was filled with too much emotion, and his head screamed one question. Is he dead?

Romano wanted to give a sigh. Of course he's dead, that gunshot at the end must've been the use of his untimely demise. His body was rather light, but Romano's pain was not there. It was weird. What is going to happen to him? Is this the afterlife?

Romano felt restless now, wanting to know what happened to him, but one thought was now repeating in his head.

Veneziano, please be safe.

 **|-Among Dust-|**

The heart monitor was beeping slowly, its sounds echoing throughout the dull room. The groans of engines were also present in the room, accompanied with the buzzing of flickering lights. A body was resting on a bed in white covers, the colors of the sheets matching the pale face of the person resting on it.

Another body was sitting on a iron chair, their posture slouched as the man's hands covered his face in pure sadness and patience. Italy has been waiting, and the noises of Perugia's bunker didn't help his dark expression as he gazed at Romano's sleeping body in the hospital bed.

After Italy was able to shoot the leader of the raider's in the head, he was able to take them all out with the sad hesitation of having to kill. Italy remembered how each raider had a look of surprise as their leader fell to the ground from a bullet wound through his skull, and how the leader was also about to shoot Romano at the same time in the skull as well. Italy couldn't do anything when the bullet ruptured the back of Romano's head, but to Italy's relief, Romano was still alive, since the back of his skull and its flesh were the only things that broke.

Italy ran, Italy ran faster than he ever did. He felt like he was able to carry Romano to Perugia in a short amount of time from his surge of adrenaline, but to him, it felt like hours, thinking about Romano's safety and recovery while the glances at Romano's dead-like face fueled those very thoughts. Throughout the time he ran with Romano's body, he could still feel the hot tears from the thoughts of him dying, and Italy sobbed in joy when he knew that he saved his brother. But now, Italy just felt hollow when he sat next to Romano's sleeping body.

Italy lifted his head to reveal sad and depraved eyes, which stared directly at Romano's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, like he never experienced the pain when the man shot at him.

Italy gave a deep sigh to himself as he hesitated on speaking to Romano, wanting Romano to hear his words, even if he was in this state. He might sound crazy, but he had been doing this for quite some time, promising Romano to not make him alone by talking to his body with the stories of what happened to him on the day he got shot.

"Romano," Italy began, trying to insert some reassurance or joy into his tone; he knew that speaking to Romano will be hard, even if he was sleeping. "I hope you're listening, since I saved you from the man. I might have told you about this twice for the last few weeks, but I feel glad that I was able to save you. I saved you from making the shot fatal, but I think God was the reason why I saved you. He gave me strength to carry you, and he wanted you to live.

"It has been three months since you were placed here with nurses and doctors, stitching your wounds together, and fixing your broken skull to the best of their abilities. I am glad they have helped you, without their work, you would've died for sure.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, the only thing I want for you is to wake up. I still have faith, but my money to help support your life in this very medical ward is running low; the doctors speak about unplugging the machine, but I used everything in my will to make it run for a few more months, just to see you return to me. So Romano," Italy tried to hold back the tears, but his body felt them flow down his face when he spoke the last words.

"Please wake up."


	3. Account 3: Germanic Brothers

**I hope you enjoy reading Account 3 with Prussia and Germany. It's not going to be too sad this time, it's like a break from all the pain and tragedy you have read from the first two accounts, but an account like this is going to be rare. You could also request for accounts based on a country, and I'll try my best.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, they help me get motivated throughout all this.**

 **Also for the reviewer, Abc, thanks for the review. :D And for Romano, that will be confidential, just to add to the suspense. I might even write about Italy and Romano again in the future.**

* * *

 **Among Dust**

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"Ludwig, the trade routes connecting to the rest of Germany and Austria are being developed in success, with these plans, then we could make a safe haven for the survivors," a brown-haired German explained to a tired Germany with a clipboard, giving Ludwig smiles of pride. "You and your brother did well in connected our borders with Austria, if we could do this right, then we could build a civilization based on the borders of our bunkers and trade routes, and we'll continue rebuilding civilization reaching from Britain to Japan. We could even find a way to the Americas, and start anew.

Ludwig gave a small sigh at the massive plan the man told to him; he never thought that could work, since it took too many bullet wounds to even get through the rest of Germany's bunkers to Austria's without dying, hell, it wasn't helping for his brother, Prussia, as well. Although, the plan of uniting the broken civilization into a new civilization was kinda comforting, since Ludwig was stressed with the concepts of nuclear radiation, and the death of his friends and neighboring countries.

"Ja, that's a nice plan, but shouldn't we focus on making sure our bunkers and trade routes are secured?" Germany questioned the happy-looking German. "It would be better if we make sure they are secure before we can advance our relations and routes to more parts of Europe, so that no weaknesses can be formed."

The brown-haired German shrugged. "Well, that could also work. I'm no good at strategy or tactics, but it's your orders."

Germany nodded as he obtained the clipboard from the man. "Of course, I would like to gain some privacy so I could choose what we should do next."

"Alright Ludwig," the German responded, leaving the steel office with an audible bang that made Ludwig mutter.

Germany knew that his orders of connecting Europe into a thriving land was going to be hard; the wastelands weren't seen as harmless or intense, since the radiation, mutants, raiders, cannibals, and dangerous terrain supported this. Germany groaned a little as he sat in an immobile chair, examining the printed words on the paper pressed down by the clipboard's appendages, hearing the engines of the Berlin Bunk groaning above him in a steady tone.

Germany's eyes weren't good for wear from the signs of fatigue, and his body's shoulders and appendages sagged occasionally from the usual physical work of keeping the Berlin bunker and the trade routes safe. It wasn't an easy process, but with the help of his brother, Prussia, they were able to keep everything stable without any recent attacks from raiders, it was a miracle that the attacks were beginning to subside.

Germany dashed his eyes through the paper, carefully apprehending every detail to make sure he didn't skip any major aspects. He softly placed the paper onto his desk, and signed his name in pen onto the line that had no visible signature. He laid the sheet into a black box, and decided that he should have a break, since he was finished with the paper work for the bunker.

Germany walked to the door with his footsteps echoing around the room, grabbing his ragged coat, placing it on him to cover his white shirt when he walked out from the door. The silent chatter welcomed Ludwig to the hallways, where some residents wore clothing that seem to be now worn out from their limited supply of clothing supply, but Germany didn't bother with that insignificant problem as he focused on what he's doing.

Germany walked through the narrow hallways, maneuvering through different people who spoke in their German tongue, and entered into a lobby, where couches that were slightly damaged through the years were in use, the lights vibrant but dull.

"Hey West!" a loud voice made Ludwig halt, turning around to see a German running to him with a grin and pale hair. Ludwig sighed at the sight of his brother, Gilbert, also known as Prussia, who came up to him for some unknown purpose, but Germany was relieved that Prussia's wounds healed.

"Yes Prussia?" Germany asked with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Ludwig, I'm just here because these government guys told me to tell you that we have another mission into the shitty lands above, and I am bored since there's nothing to do here, so let's go!"

"Hold on!" Germany tugged on Prussia's jacket before Prussia had time to run to the direction of the bunker's entrance. "Are you sure that you are healed enough for this, Prussia? You did gain some severe wounds, and suggesting that you get barraged by bullets isn't helping you."

"Come on, West," Prussia shrugged with no consideration to his voice. "I'm healed, and I hate having to just count the cracks on the ceiling all day. They only have a few books there – which I finished – so I want to go before I die of boredom."

Germany gave an aggravated groan at this, since he remembered a few weeks ago when the two had a mission to go to Austria to connect their trade routes with the country's bunkers, and Prussia was ambushed by raiders, gaining bullet wounds that looked severe. Germany killed the raiders, and Prussia gained medical attention in the Salzburg bunker, where Prussia was treated enough to return to their own bunker so Prussia can get more care then what Germany can gain from foreign wards in Austria. Prussia seems to be fine though, even if it took some suspicious time for Prussia to heal, but Germany wasn't going to interrogate him, not yet.

"Fine Prussia, you can come," Germany answered with defeat in his voice, but Prussia ignored it as he walked to the direction of their weapon storage.

"Awesome, West! I knew my little brother can't say no to a brother in need," Prussia exclaimed with pride, but Germany shook his head in dismay as they walked over to the metal vault that protected their weapons.

Germany pressed his fingers into the numbers on the wall, where he placed a four number pin. The vault shifted with gears and engines activating somewhere concealed in the metal walls, and the vault groaned as it moved from its resting place, relocating itself into a slot in the wall, making the weapons on the racks come into view. Prussia and Germany walked into the room filled with weaponry, taking what's needed for the mission, which Prussia was explaining to his brother as a conversation starter.

"They want us to guard some convoys, since they're going to sign with Belgium and Netherlands about some more routes, at least we're not riding to Austria's or Hungary's house, because I don't think I can live another day without fearing for my ass," Prussia explained in his normal banter while he grabbed a Beretta 38/42, inserting cartridges into its chambers.

"Don't be surprised if we have to guard convoys through Russia's or Austria's, since we got to make sure we have contact with surviving countries, and commerce," Germany responded to Prussia's repartee, taking a pistol and Beretta, inserting cartridges in them while grabbing unarmed grenades with his left hand.

Prussia gave an annoyed groan. "I would rather stay in the hospital."

"That's not healthy, brother," Germany claimed, placing his assorted weapons into a black bag, waiting for Prussia to also do so with his weapons. "Staying in bed without any motor skills, not using your body properly, that's just going to kill you."

"I'm not a human, brother," Prussia bickered, placing his weapons into the black bag Germany handed him. "I can't die that easily."

Germany was silent at that statement. With him ignoring Prussia's remark, he placed the heavy bag's straps onto his right shoulder, and exited the armory with his brother, hearing the gears of the vault supporting the vault back to its original place.

Germany was thinking, his thoughts were moving with different ideas. Prussia's state of health was worrying him – he has been getting injured easily, his wounds don't heal that quickly, and his answers on Germany's questions related to it were blunt. If Prussia still continues his strange behavior, then Germany will have to form ideas of what's happening to him, and interrogation will come sooner or later.

The two brothers walked over to the entrance of the bunker, seeing two men on opposite sides divided by rails, opening the entrance by panels. One of the men, having blond hair and tired, hazel eyes, smiled at Ludwig. "Make us proud sir."

Ludwig widened his eyes at the man, who continued his work with the panels. Germany was surprised at this sort of silent exchange, since his efforts were not too acknowledged because of fear of letting people know he's a country for certain reasons, so people giving him appreciation for what he's doing was shocking to say the least. Ludwig went out of his daze, and nodded at the blond-haired man, his response was an acknowledged expression with a small smile.

"Stop smiling at the others, I find that rather creepy, but because it's rare for you to smile, I am proud that you can smile like a normal person, West," Prussia commented, making Germany redden a little, but quickly averted his vision to the opening entrance of the vault, which revealed the grotesque and dead buildings of the old Berlin, destroyed with only supports standing.

"Still ugly, isn't it, West?" Prussia joked wryly to Germany, who grimaced. The destroyed capital pained Germany, seeing his proud Berlin damaged and destroyed, only blood and charred land decorating the lands; Germany bit his lip, but focused on the task at hand.

"Come on, Prussia, let's go," Germany ordered to Prussia, who was rather slow to reply, but followed him when he walked over to the two vehicles that were next to the bunker, which was hidden nicely in layers of ground.

The vehicles were guarded by five soldiers, who wore armor that seemed old and outdated, but scanned the area in patience. The vehicles were dented and bruised, even if they were the once proud military Humvees, the wheels were rather rigid but stable, just like the rest of the two Humvees. The convoys didn't have any of their offensive appliances, where they seem to be broken or destroyed, which explains why they chosen one of their strongest men into guarding it if they can't use their machine guns to defend it.

"Ludwig!" one of the men shouted at him,with Germany whipping his head to the soldier's directions. The soldier was rather dirty from how his German military uniform was covered in dirt and ash, which wasn't surprising from how many missions the man could've worked on in the past. His stern eyes reached Ludwig's with an intense stare. "The diplomat will be out soon, so I want you to drive the first convoy. It's your duty to get the diplomat through terrain safely." Ludwig nodded at the man's request.

"What about me, though? Do I get to ride shotgun or –," Prussia started his question but was interrupted by the soldier's head shaking in negativity.

"Nien, you get to protect the backside of the second convoy."

"What!? I wanted to drive. Who's going to even be in the second convoy anyway?"

"Soldiers who will reinforce the protection on the diplomat if things become complicated," the soldier replied.

"That sounds like a crappy strategy," Prussia muttered, which made the soldier scowl.

"Look, either you protect the backside, or you're staying here."

Prussia gave a conflicted look, but shrugged his shoulders. "The bunker is too boring. I'm going with you." Prussia unzipped Germany's black bag while it's still hanging from his shoulder, and took out a Beretta and some ammo.

Germany walked over to the driver's seat of the first convoy after Prussia grabbed his guns and went to the backside of the second convoy. Germany was astonished that there are still some vehicles in this world that are functional, but based on how there were cracked glass and broken meters in the Humvee, he shouldn't be surprised that a few engineers only had limited supplies to repair the significant areas. Germany saw that an orange light emitted in front of his vision, he turned a lever to the right to crank the engine, checked if the headlights were on – which were not, released the handbrake, and heard the beginning roars of life accompanied with vibrations from the vehicle. Germany also heard similar sounds behind him, and took that as a sign to begin driving.

Germany saw that some parts of the features, like his turn signals or marker lights, are broken, so he ignored it even if they are important for their survival, and switched the Humvee to drive. Germany began to maneuver the vehicle after it took its first feet, and stopped abruptly when a soldier was shouting at him to stop from his left window.

The left window was broken, so Germany halted the vehicle and looked at the soldier. "What is it?"

"I am assigned to be located in the passenger seat, so that if you get shot, then I'll take control. Also, the diplomat is entering the convoy, so wait for one minute before you start it again."

Germany nodded. "Alright, enter."

The soldier went around the vehicle to its passenger's door, where he entered while another door slammed in the back from Germany's vision.

"Go," the soldier spoke with less emotion, making Germany start the Humvee again, and trekking it through hard terrain.

The Humvee was rather difficult for its suspension, which was unexpected to Ludwig since his country was able to create more stable suspension for their assorted vehicles years ago, but if it's not too repaired, then he ignored it even if the roads made him jump from uplifts or hills.

The soldier next to him took out a cigarette, lighting it so that he could place it onto his lips, letting smoke out after a few seconds, which irritated Germany from the Humvee gaining a smell of cigarette smoke. "Do you think any other countries are still alive?"

Germany widened his eyes at this. "What do you mean by that?"

"The countries' people, are their people still alive?" The soldier raised his eyebrow at Germany's temporary shock from his question.

"Oh," Germany relaxed as he focused on the road. "I don't know, we didn't gain any signals from the other countries, maybe it's because of the distance, EMI, or the radiation."

"Hm," the soldier hummed as he puffed out smoke from his cigarette. "Do you think that we can return the wastelands back to what it use to be?"

"Well, we can't return it back into what it was in the past, there will be too much scars to make a comparison," Germany sighed with some melancholy, making the soldier blink in silence.

"We have to try though," the soldier muttered, looking dazed at the destroyed buildings of Berlin. "We made mistakes, sure, but that's because there's too much hate, and too much hate made ignorance and irrationality. Sometimes, I feel like humans are the reason why our species is going to die. Don't die by natural causes, die by your own hands. Now that's screwed up." The soldier gave a sad laugh to himself, making Germany grunt.

"I don't want to think like that now, since we're already on a mission that could be lethal if not done right," Germany explained while driving out of the crumbling structures of Berlin.

"Don't just lower my behavior like that, that's not nice," the soldier sighed.

"But it's true."

"I know."

Germany shook his head in grief, and continued their destination to Belgium and Netherlands, with the thoughts of death and sorrow lingering in the air.

* * *

 **Alright, this might be rather short, but I'm thinking I should do a second part where they go to Belgium and Netherlands, but I don't know.**

 **This is Channel Jumper, signing off!**


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